Sha Qing

Chapter 18: Crawled Out Of Hell (1)

Second floor, FBI office building, Chicago.

Fierce and loud gunshots kept echoing in the enclosed space for a long time. Quick-moving humanoid targets popped out continuously from the dark and amidst the gunfire, each target that appeared for less than three seconds fell back in succession, dotted with small black holes within the central ring.

Five targets suddenly popped from the farthest back at the same time- each moved forward at different speeds and trajectories, but the gun was almost empty at this time, only a lone bullet was left in the barrel. There wasn't enough time left- his right thumb ejected the magazine, while at the same time, his left hand quickly pulled out a new one and effortlessly reloaded the gun. The entire process only took approximately 0.5 second! Five shots were fired by the man who seemed like he didn't have enough time to aim, but in the end was still able to hit the bulls eye, and the five moving targets simultaneously fell down.

The sound of gunfire came to an abrupt halt, and an electronic female voice reported the results: "Moving Hidden Target Training is over; Type: Anti-hostage shooting training; Venue: 1; Difficulty: Grade A; Number of hits: 38; Accuracy: 100%; Average reaction time: 1.39 seconds; Comprehensive rating: A+."

Leo's tight muscles slowly relaxed as he put down his hand gun, and took off the noise-cancelling earmuffs. On a cylindrical metal platform more than a meter high, the microcomputer reminded him if he wanted to save the training results that had broken the best record in the rankings. Leo indifferently clicked "Cancel" on the touch screen, hid his gun and walked away.

"Hi!"A man behind him called out. The voice sounded powerful, as if it broke through his throat only after hitting his chest a hundred times, with a loud reverberation like a stereo speaker.

That voice timber... sounds damn familiar! Leo increased his pace as he walked towards the exit, like he heard nothing.

"Hey! I'm sure you heard me, little pony ~" the voice said in sing-songy tone.

Leo had to stop- he turned around frostily, and looked coldly at the other person. 6 ft 5 in (1.96 meters) tall, 225 pounds (102 kg), the bald man stood in front of him like an iron tower and the bulging muscles exuded a striking and explosive force. What's even more terrible than this immense power was the unarmed combat skills meant for killing this man possessed. His pair of steel-like legs can perform 4 kicks per second, break a 2.7 inch-in-diameter iron pole and broke 157 hard skulls during the world's top black market fighting matches.

Anthony Querot, a Brazilian-American, from a Siberia training camp, nicknamed 'Death Chariot', had been invincible for eight years in the "No Rules, No Limits" black market fighting competition with 198 wins out of 199 matches, 157 of which were killed. On his only defeat-his last match, he paid the heavy price of broken arms and clavicle, three rib fractures, and a severe concussion. He was already dying at that time and was almost killed by the black market boss who thought that he was no longer a valuable asset. Fortunately, he was accidentally rescued by several federal officers so he narrowly escaped with his life, and was sent to the best hospital for treatment.

The police had hoped to use him as a breakthrough to cut off the big network of the black market. Unfortunately, as he was only a competitor, even as a boxing champion, he didn't know too much insider information so in the end, he only managed to destroy the outer ring of the big net. After he tenaciously survived and recovered, Anthony relied on his previous agreement with the Department of Justice to become the FBI New York branch's hand combat instructor, as he still had a power and skills far more extraordinary than normal people.

Leo, who had been transferred to the headquarters not until three years ago, was constantly tortured by this instructor on the combat training ground of the New York branch. In fact, this was not a very disgraceful thing as all the agents who have dealt with him, even those well-trained special police, were all cleaned up by Anthony. The point was, this guy used to always target Leo, saying things like "You should become an actor, model, or a rich woman's little pretty boy[efn_note]Xiǎo Bái Liǎn= literally means little white face. It's a derogatory term to refer to young handsome men who didn't want to work and instead use their looks to depend/live off a rich woman[/efn_note] instead of being a policeman!"

One time, after a routine of training sessions, he proudly said to Leo, "Are you upset? It's a pity that in order to complete the required combat training courses, you only have two choices: one, defeat me; and two, cry like a damsel in distress while complaining to the chief about me discriminating against you because of your appearance. Which one do you choose?"

Leo counterattacked with a power akin to someone killing enemies on a battlefield.

That exchange of blows resulted to an angry student with a fractured tibia, and an unscrupulous instructor with a mere bruised cheek.

And now, this guy appeared in front of him, here on the underground training field of the FBI's Chicago branch. Although he knew that it was just a chance encounter, the moment Leo saw him at first glance, the impulse to give that shiny bald head a kick was rekindled.

"I haven't seen you in three years and yet, your little white face still hasn't changed at all. Let me see if you've made any progress other than being able to hook up with more women." Anthony said in a provocative tone as he bent his big index finger that was pointed at Leo's face.

Leo replied with a deadpan face: "Such a shame that you're no longer my instructor, and I have no obligation to provide real-life demonstration for the combat training courses in the Chicago branch." It seemed like he was going to walk away, but the moment he turned, he swiped his right leg aiming straight at Anthony's temple, accompanied by a whistling wind.

"What a surprise, such a good trick!" Anthony said as he leaned his head back, easily avoiding the swift kick.

Leo missed, and the inertia drove his body to spin in a circle, so he followed with a left leg kick, like a snake biting for his opponent's left ribs- a solid kick that even a strong man like Anthony would suffer from one or two broken ribs. The latter folded his arms in front of his left lower chest, bent his knees and lowered his waist in order to avoid another of Leo's incoming left leg-kick.

Just as Anthony turned his back to prepare for a counterattack, the other side whipped one of his legs again like a thunderbolt, and forced him to duck again in one breath. Leo leaned down to give the opposing side another lashing from his leg, and the bald man finally fell on his back to avoid that last kick. In this series of attack-and-defense, which only lasted for 5 seconds, Leo made a total of 5 kicks, and the attack ranged from head-to-toe, all executed by his storm-like leg skills.

"Good!" Anthony shouted, the action contracted his strong abdominal muscles. He quickly bounced up while Leo, who had to lean over in order to perform his last kick, still had his two hands on the ground. The former seized the gap of less than half a second to hit the latter's right jaw with a right backhand punch. It seemed like a light punch, given that it was only executed by the back of the hands, but Leo felt a splitting pain from his jaw. He staggered with two steps just as he stood up, and the sourness he felt in his nasal cavity almost made his eyes instinctively tear up.

The combat instructor's counterattack was much more than that one fist- his body leaped up in a straight line and quickly rotated 360 degrees. His huge body brought an enormous kinetic energy, and like an iron axe, his right long leg whistled towards Leo's left face! It's hard to imagine that a big man like Anthony can perfectly execute such a delicate leg method but the man spun once more and a swirling kick had hit Leo's left jaw yet again.